


Santa Claus is coming...

by pixiedurango



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Brooding, Chest Hair, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Consensual Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Funny, I Blame Tumblr, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kissing, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, Love at First Sight, Nerdiness, Oral Sex, Past Character Death, Sad and Sweet, Santa Blackwall, Sex, Sex Talk, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexy, Sexy Times, Sleeping Together, Slow Burn, Sweet/Hot, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:03:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5376191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiedurango/pseuds/pixiedurango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In our world, we meet Arya Trevelyan and her new neighbor Blackwall who get to know each other on a cold and lonely Christmas evening and feel a kind of bond from the first moment. Is it just physical attraction? Sex? Do they know each other from other places? Or do we only meet to lonely people finding some comfort in each other when it's needed most?</p><p>This piece includes: a half naked Santa (Blackwall style), ridiculous coincidences, a totally made up setting, nerding-contests, attraction at first sight, milk and cookies, and most probably some steaming hot sex at the first date … or what ever we will call this meet up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rabidtanuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidtanuki/gifts).



> This all is the fault of rabidtanuki who threw this into my tumblr askbox:
> 
> What you need is a Blackwall dressed (half naked) as Santa sliding down your chimney (there is a euphemism in there somewhere, I can feel it). Then you need to offer him milk and cookies (there must be a euphemism in there somewhere too) and he gets so comfortable he stays for the night. In your bed. Naked. Doing things. >.>
> 
> Planned as a smutty one shot I am on a way too feelsy level now to let them just fuck and go...  
> let's se where this will lead us...
> 
> PS: I also blame rabidtanuki for the title... but once I read it I could not unread it anymore and here we are... we all need Andraste!

 

 

* * *

 

Her mood is below zero when she finally enters the lift that brings her up to her apartment. The bags left and right on her shoulders that carry the last grocery shopping for this week (and she hopes for this year, too) get insufferable heavy and though she's freezing from the cold, the sweat of carrying heavy stuff for about half an eternity runs down her temples and her back. She's sure to be an utter mess (aka looking like shit) but she doesn't care. It's Christmas and today had been her last day at the office before a whole week off and though everyone is already in a festive mood, her boss has kept her busy long after due hours and with no word of gratitude for all her extra work. She had endured it – as usual – with a smile. But when she finally had been allowed to leave, she had been fed up, annoyed and deadly tired with her thoughts full of nasty curses.

So she's not at her best when the lift doors whoosh open and the first thing she sees is… Santa! Well… Santa's back… an impressively broad and muscled back… her brows furrow… _what's going on here?_ The apartment next to her own had been empty for a long time… needs a lot of renovation and no one wants to rent a shit hole like this. It had been empty and deserted when she had left in the morning but not any longer.

She sees dark hair, more than shoulder long, under the red and white Santa cap and she hears a dark voice rumbling curses and angry mumbles. Santa tries to open the door but it's obvious he has no keys… Throws himself against the door, jolts the door knob.

When he hears someone - her - approach, he twirls. And she - drops everything from her jaw to her bags (and literally her panties but she won't never admit that). Her shopping bags hit the ground as she literally jumps from surprise. The noise she emits lies between a surprised shriek and a gasp she already had heard herself making when she saw something (someone) incredible hot. This Santa is _naked_! Well, not completely. At least he wears black pants and boots. And the red Santa robe of course… but besides that? Maybe this incredible black chest hair with some shots of gray in it keeps him warm enough, but she would expect a tee or even better a white shirt under a Santa's robe… especially when there is no belt to close the robe and the thing constantly flaps open.

And he has no beard… _no_! He has one. A _great_ one. But it's black. Also few streaks of gray in it. It suits him but it's not very Santa. Not the white curly Santa-beard he should fancy. He simply would be the perfect Santa with a white wig and beard and a complete costume.

„Did I miss anything?” Her tone's not her friendliest as she examines him with a suspicious look from head to toes and back (while she cannot help to examine his well defined chest and the trail of soft black hair that leads between some nicely defined but not shredded six pack, definitely more intense than the rest…) _just the type of muscle_ _s_ _that_ _are_ _sweet_ _to rest o_ _n._

Unwillingly she shakes her head. Where are her manners? Her precaution? And what shall _he_ think of her? But, first of all: who is this? Before lusting after resting her head on his happy trail she should at least check who the heck he is and what he has to do in a half-done Santa outfit next to her door.

She forces herself to look up. Into his face. Grey eyes under dark bushy brows. Deep within a distant sadness. His nose had been broken at least once but it suits him, gives him a hint of bad boy where the rest of him is just a sad bear.

When he sees her groceries rolling around the hallway he comes to life. Jumps to help, begins to pick up things, stuffing them into the bags again… mumbling excuses for things he has not done. What a beautiful dark voice he has. Strong hands. And he smells good. Masculine, a distant hint of wood and smoke, a tangy soap. Alluring!

Again she calls herself to order, gets up, shoulders her bags again and tries not to show how… impressed she is. As she grabs her keys out of her pocket and unlocks her door, he finally is able to say something reasonable.

„Looks as we are neighbors then...” _does he really imply a little bow?_

„Is that so… _Santa_?” one of her brows rises and her lips curl.

„Ugh… oh… sorry, lass. Tho… Blackwall. Name's Blackwall.”

„Just Blackwall?” he hesitates, then nods. She shrugs. „Good then, neighbor _just_ Blackwall. Will you tell me what you intend to do in this half Santa-suit you wear?”

„I was hired to play Santa Clause for… oh shit! _The children_!“ he frowns, guilt written all over his face. „I’ve disappointed them all by not showing up... Now it’s too late.“

„Are you sure you were hired for _children_?“ a smirk creeps up her face. „To be honest you look more like a stripper hired for a girls-only Christmas party... and be sure you would make the coin of your life like _that_...“ she bites her tongue, blushes.

All in a sudden his eyes are on her. Paying attention. Checking. Scanning. But first of all: Blushing, too.

„Well that's kind of you to say, but I’m afraid the times of middle aged hairy lummoxes are clearly over...“ he manages to say.

She forces herself to leave the subject. Could add on but that is not the conversation she's willing to have with a stranger on the hallway. Instead, she asks: „So you tell me we are neighbors, but I see no keys.“

He shrugs in a desperate and awkward gesture, pointing towards the closed door. „I have. In there. I was in a hurry.“ He looks down to the enormous linen sack on the floor. She has not even recognized it so far. _Damn, this man clearly distracts her too much!_

„In a hurry for what?“

„Carry the gifts down to the car. I was already too late and may have been acting in a rush. When I realized that I missed the keys in there, it was too late and the door was locked.“ He looks desperate. Adorable!

 _Stay reasonable!_ She yells at herself.

„Why haven’t you called anyone? The cops? A locksmith? The landlord?“ suspicious eyes on him.

„Mobile’s in there... next to the keys. And my wallet.“ He looks embarrassed and desperate but keeps answering her questions patiently.

„Mind if I check your story?“

He shrugs.

„Of course, but how...“

„Your number!“ She already fumbles out her I-phone and looks at him, waiting with an expecting expression on her face.

„Of course, my lady...“ he talks funny but she doesn’t mind. Hacking in the number he tells her and then she listens. When the Imperial March from Star Wars begins to sound through the door, she closes her phone and nods.

„Lucky you were not on vibration, Santa Blackwall.“

„Aye... May I ask...“ hesitant. The word chivalrous comes to her mind. But she also sees the daring smirky curl on his lips under the dark mustache. She smiles back, not knowing what else to do. She knows people and is already sure, this man would never willingly harm her. She waits for his question.

„I mean... I’ll have an unanswered call on my phone now. What name shall I type in, in case the person calls again?“

 _That’s cute_! She smiles friendly but internal she is all squee.

„You can save me under Arya.“

His eyes grow bigger.

„Like Arya _Stark_? Are you truly named after a character from ‚a song of ice and fire’?“

She wrinkles her nose, grinning.

„Are you trying to win a nerd contest? Imperial March, knowing Arya Stark...“

His laugh is deep and rumbling...

„Got me... I’m a sucker for those books... and regarding the Star Wars thing... well, I guess that was a melancholic, drunken download.“

„You won’t hear me complain. So, Santa Blackwall, why don’t you come inside and use _my_ phone to fix your bullshit? Calling your clients to explain and excuse for not showing up and find you someone who lockpicks your door. In the meantime, I’ll fix us some hot beverages.“ She suggests and turns toward her door to finally enter.

There’s a smile in his voice when he replies. „I’m happy to accept in my misery but is that wise to invite a half-naked stranger into your home?“

She chuckles.

„Don’t forget, I know where you live! Now come on in and do your calls before those angry parents cast a grudge on you!“

And he follows her like an oversized puppy into her apartment.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little snippet of modern Arya and Blackwall on their way to a perfect christmas.  
> She has invitited him into her apartment to fix the things gone wrong (we remember, no keys, no phone, no shirt) - but (of course) nothing will be solved as fast as he maybe thought.

 

* * *

 

She can hear him making his calls in the living room while she is in the kitchen, stowing away her shopping goods. He had asked her permission to use her laptop for some number researches and she had granted it with no further thoughts. How else he should find numbers without having his own mobile at hand? She hums and sings some silly Christmas song, while she tidies her small kitchen and catches herself with a stupid grin on her face...

 

 

> _Santa baby,_
> 
> _just slip a_ _s_ _able under the tree for me;_
> 
> _Been an awful good girl,_
> 
> _Santa baby,_
> 
> _So hurry down the chimney tonight_

She giggles. Has not been into some holiday mood for years.  _Not since..._ She makes an unwilling noise and pushes away the unpleasant thought. _Not today!_ She tells herself. _Not this year!_ And after a moment of gloom her eyes gain back their vivid light and she resumes humming merry Christmas stuff.

She slips into her tiny sleeping room to change from business to casual when it hits her… _oh fuck, he will see her screen savers_ … most likely all of them… all those gorgeous, muscular men with broad chests and body hair and even less clothing as her guest wears at the moment… She lingers in her room, hides her face by leaning her forehead against the full height mirror of her wardrobe. Her ears burn as she feels embarrassed in some awkward girlish way, can’t make herself go back into the living room to face him. He will _know_ that she finds him hot! Finally, she realizes that she must return at some point. Hiding won’t help and after all she is a grown ass woman and he must be blind and stupid anyway in case he has not noticed yet that she likes what she sees when she looks at him. So she stiffens her back and keeps her chin up and returns to where he just is done with his last call. He stands in the middle of the room, the phone still in his hand, obviously not sure if he is allowed to take a seat on her sofa. Still wearing this plushy Santa robe that makes him look so ridiculously hot and an excusing expression on his face when she returns.

She wears some black yoga pants and a fleece hoodie, her long black hair with the side cut tied up in a loose bun and has changed the contacts to huge black nerd glasses. She recognizes that he checking her again and she blushes (and internal flails) when she realizes that he, too, likes what he sees. His face gets brighter somehow. Peaceful. Also a hint of lust? Anyway, his eyes keep lingering on her breasts, hips, eyes - a bit longer than necessary and appropriate but far from being creepy.

He clears his throat. „Landlord isn't available until December 27. Tried to find a locksmith, but they all seem to be in holiday mode, too. Have a few that may be available tomorrow.” He shrugs with an excusing smile. „And for the Santa appointments… well, at least no one will take charges against me for breaking a contract… I guess I can call myself a lucky man.”

„So, what you intend to do?” she asks.

He shrugs, can't look into her eyes. Feels a bother already for far too long. „I guess I'll go and break into my own car since I can't break into my flat and try to stay there for the next two or three days until I can contact the landlord somehow.” He means it. Is already about to turn and leave.

„Wait.” it's out before she can over think it. „You may stay here. At least it's warm and… you'll have some company over Christmas if that means anything to you.”

„Oh no, my lady.” again this strange, anachronistic language that is weird and charming at the same time. „I can't. Really. You must have plans. I should not steal any more of your time and patience. I shall go.”

She shrugs. „I won't tie you up ( _Shush!_ She internally shouts at her own naughty thoughts. _Shut up!_ ) in here but be sure I wouldn't have offered it if I wouldn't mean it. I have no plans and to be honest, the idea that anyone freezes in a car without keys to even use the heater does not appeal to me.”

He hesitates. She can see the inner struggles literally on his face. Steps from one foot to another, gazes around, not able to look into her face, frowns and finally looks down to the ground, inspecting her carpet. „I don't want to be a burden. I can handle that. Maybe if you would lend me a few bucks for a hotel… And a sweater perhaps...”

She makes a decision. He appears to be a decent guy and no creep. She won't let him off if his only reason is not wanting to be a burden. „I doubt any of my sweaters will fit onto you...” she smiles. „And I don't think you can have a _Game of Thrones_ marathon at a hotel… And milk and cookies… Please stay! It would be nice to have a guest over the holidays.”

He looks at her for a long silent moment. Then straightens his shoulders and finally nods. „How can I reject such a tempting offer, _my lady_.” and he smiles back at her when he realizes that she has noticed the fun title and… even more: that she likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can recommend this version of "Santa Baby" on youtube (since all I found from divine Eartha Kitt was crappy quality)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXCe0NZm3_k


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern Arya and Blackwall are getting to know each other a little better. Some talk over milk and cookies (which was requested in the original unprompting prompt) and we learn about her family. And see him, tripping over words, again.  
> Later there will be pizza. Meat lovers, hot, double cheese... Deep.. ahem... crust! And some sweet flirting action and hot kisses, too.
> 
> And maybe I'll remember where this dialogues came from all in a sudden *winks*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna thank everyone who jumped into that important pizza headcanon the other day and left some input... I think I chose something we all can agree on that he would totally order it like that.

 

* * *

 

„It's been ages, someone offered me milk and cookies.” he hunches over her kitchen table and she grins while she watches him. How he enjoys the small thing that obviously makes him happy and melancholic at the same time.

„You new to the city?” she eventually asks and he stares into his milk for a while.

„Yeah… living on the... far end of the country for a while… moved just now.”

„And besides that seasonal Santa business? How do you pay your bills?” he looks up, his eyes gets piercing and cold for a second. Trying to see behind, learn what her intentions of asking this might be. But when he sees no threat in her face and he hears no greed in her words he answers but - not for the first time - he trips over his words:

„I'm a co… err... I'm into security… you?” he nibbles on another double-choc-chunk-cookie while he awaits her answer, obviously hoping she would not insist on asking _him_ further.

She does him the favor: „I'm working as a secretary to earn me my rent.” she answers. Reluctant, even a stranger can understand that.

„And what do you do to earn you your happiness?” soft voice, she lifts her gaze, their eyes meet.

„I'm a dancer.”

He nods. „Hard to come by with a regular income then?”

„I do classes. Private lessons. Cruises. Festivals. Music Videos. TV. Shows. Whatever I can get. When you are no baby chicken anymore it gets harder...” she sees that he is about to object, but she silences him with a short gesture. „ _Don't!_ It's sweet of you trying to flatter me, but both we know that George R. R. Martin rather found my name on my mighty family tree than my parents found it in his book... I’m a kid of the eighties and I was a teenager when the first _song of ice and fire_ book premiered.“ He looks up in surprise but does not jump on it. Instead, he asks: „Your _family tree_?”

„Trevelyan… that's my family name. You might have heard of them.” she rolls her eyes.

„Oh… _those_ Trevelyans? The ones with the oil?” he tries hard to put together what he sees and what he hears.

„The very same. We haven't talked for years. I'm the unwanted weird middle child with the strange artistic passions and no interest in business, greed and making money. Or adding on to family history. At least by producing suitable heirs.” she shrugs and he has no idea how to respond.

„I'm sorry...” he finally says and his voice is hoarse.

„Don't be. I made my choice long ago and it's fine.” for a second she grabs his hand and when she recognizes what she’s doing, she flinches as if she’s touching a hot stove-top and blushes so eternal she fears her ears will catch fire or her head might explode. He looks from his hand up to her face and back. But he doesn't say a word. There is silence between them and both try to figure out if it's an awkward one or if they are already building a rapport.

Then, after a while, he asks: „Do you do this often?”

„What you mean? _Help?”_ she winks at him. „Well, I'm notorious for bringing in homeless kitten and pups… it looks as if I got a real big one this time...”

His laughter is hearty, deep and rumbling and the lingering tension fades again. „You fed me, offered me a place to stay.” he teases. „Now I'm curious about how you'll keep the big pup entertained.” the sound she makes is a mixture between laughter and snort and she realizes that they are already in the middle of a flirt. Back and forth, daring and restraining themselves, but it’s not to deny that there is some certain energy between them.

„I think you won't get bored… if everything fails I'll teach you how to roll over and sit and beg.” She grins and gets up to put the glasses into the sink and to set up the coffee maker, but he playfully grabs her wrist and pulls her closer.

„That's how you roll, my lady?” She looks down at him, still with a smile. He has put away that ridiculous Santa cap so she can see his dark and strong hair. Like in his beard, there are gray streaks here and there and it gives him the look of a man who has lived a lot. He wraps his arms around her waist. Light touch and not demanding, giving her the feeling that she can step away every second. Her hand slides through his hair for a moment before she replies:

„I'm a big fan of giving and taking. There's a time for everything if this answers your question.” She slips out of his playful embrace and makes herself busy with the coffee. He gets up, too and turns to step out of the kitchen. „It does. And I tend to agree.” he needs distance, obviously, before the situation gets too steamy, too soon.

* * *

„How do you like your coffee?” she calls from the kitchen.

„Black, little sugar.” he replies from the sofa where he has placed himself while waiting for her to return.

When she does, she carries two steaming mugs that she places in front of them. Then lets herself fall into the opposite corner of the sofa, already grabbing the remote to start the promised _Game of Thrones_ marathon.

For the next few hours, they are busy watching the show, ramble about it, exchange opinions, laugh, flirt. Flirt a lot.

Later they order pizza. With no argument, they can agree on meat lovers with jalapeños and extra cheese. Deep crust.

When they finally sit there, both snuggled under a huge plaid, the pizza box in front of them, he holds still for a moment. The first slice already in his hand, he looks at her, admires her and the moment. Is amazed. Sitting together as if they know each other literally forever, sharing pizza and drinks (they have gone from coffee to beer - which they ordered along with the pizza).

„I can see that you do not care a lot, but Merry Christmas, my lady.” he says, referring to her all non-Christmassy apartment. Calm and serious, using this silly title as if it is already decided to be her forever nickname.

„To you, too. Santa Blackwall.“

„Would you mind if I’ll take this silly robe away?“ he asks.

„Sure not, why should I?“ a question mark in her eyes.

„Well, I would be bare-chested.“

„Oh, I really don’t mind.“

His grin gets broad. „Yes, I’m sure you don’t“ and both they know that he refers to her screen-savers he must have discovered earlier. But then he slips out of the red plush thing and grins friendly when she ogles over under half cast eyes.

„Hey, don’t you worry.“ He takes her hand. „It’s nothing wrong to know what floats your boat. And to be honest, it’s not that often that a hot woman like you is into old silverbacks like me.“

„Stop fishing for compliments. You train hard to maintain a body like that. I can appreciate that. Besides that, you’re a handsome guy.“ He chuckles.

„Can we now stop flattering each other now and resume our little Christmas special? I don’t want to finally start blushing because of you.“ He obviously realizes just now that he still holds her hand and flinches as if he has been caught by doing something forbidden. „I...“ he starts. „I can’t believe this. Are we truly flirting?“ unsure and reluctant.   
  
She shrugs, pretends that it would not matter if or if not.  
„You tell me!“

It takes a moment but then all in a sudden it rushes all off of him:  
„If only you knew how confounding you are. How impossibly infuriating. I can’t thank you enough for inviting me to your place. It’s a long time ago that I felt so much at home and I would hate to leave. But we should not be doing this flirting thing. It’s all wrong.“

She looks at him. His eyes are so sad it hurts. This is not about 'do’s' and 'dont’s' on a first date (or whatever it is that they have right now), he seems to carry so much of a burden that keeps him away from any happiness. Before she can finish her thoughts or decide whether it is wise, she leans over and her lips touch his. He gasps. Is petrified, yet she can feel his impulse of wanting to return the kiss.

„It doesn’t feel wrong.“ she whispers. She sees him fight with himself. Body urging forward into her. Eyes full of desperation. Trying to find a reason to reject without having to explain anything.

„No, don’t do that. I want to give in. God knows how much I wish I could. But I’m not what you want. I could never be the man you deserve. You’d have no life with me.“

Her eyes become dark as she frowns and her voice cuts like a knife: „I decide what I deserve not you! And I haven’t ask you to share your life with me!“ He can’t look into her eyes.

„Maybe I should go. I only can repeat, you’d have no life with me. There is nothing I can offer. But you’ll have to send me away. End it before anything starts. Because I...“ barely to understand are his next words. „I... can’t. And I don’t want to.“

She smiles. „I’m not letting you go.“ Her voice is soft but leaves no doubt she means it.

Sad eyes on her. „We’re going to regret this, my lady!“ but he already reaches out for her. Pulls her closer from her corner of the sofa to his. Now when their lips meet, he returns the kiss. Serious and soft making it the most important thing in the whole world. A kiss that tastes of pizza and beer and tells of sadness and desperation on both sides.

When their lips part she whispers: „Do you regret that?“ and he can’t answer other than with more hungry kisses.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another snippet of "Santa" Blackwall and Arya in my random modernAU. Basically Blackwall doing what he is best at: BROODING...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I put you all (and myself) into a bad slow burn here... but always keep in mind: we are only talking a few hours here... It's their first night together and tbh... it's so much more fun doing it like that!

 

* * *

 

It’s already way past midnight. He still rests on her sofa. No lights. Only on the screen still passes one episode _Game of Thrones_ after another, but they have stopped paying attention a long time ago.

She sleeps in his arms. Has fallen asleep after having a long day at work and with a lot of unexpected excitement afterward (to which he is not exactly innocent, as he has to admit). He feels privileged and put to shame at the same time that she already trusts him enough to just let go and sleep in his arms. Half lying on him half at his side. Curled together like a kitten that craves for warmth and another breathing body next to her, her legs somehow entwined with his. He looks down on her still in amazement. Still trying to figure out what happens to them and their lives. His big hand is careful and soft when he shoves a lose streak of black hair behind her ear so it would not tickle her.

She is a beauty.

She is sexy.

She deserves so much better.

They had been close to giving in to the lust of the moment but somehow both of them had the feeling that tonight might not be the moment for it. Hot kisses and the glimpse of what was about to come later, eager hands longing to touch and skin eager to feel. He imagines how it will be to have her. Being allowed to make love to her. He smiles in the flickering dark. Can’t wait to make this fantasies reality and at the same time he enjoys the thrill of anticipation.

He lets his mind wander freely and far away. Back into his past, when he had been young, cocky and most of all ruthless and greedy.

He has stopped doing one-night-stands literally for ages now.

This here feels different anyway. Nothing about fast sex, barely exchanged names, kinky stuff, adventure and moving on the minute it’s over.

He knows they will have sex at one point or another during this holidays. They have been way too close to it already and both were enjoying the lingering sexual tension. They lust after each other way too much to ignore it. And yet he is sure that it’s different to his fast and meaningless encounters of the past. He will not feel the urge to disappear once he is done.

Yet he does not know if he’ll be forced to do it anyway one day. He should not do all that, anything, without knowing how to handle it, he reminds himself. But he craves for a kind soul in his life. Tender hands, a loving voice and a warm body to wake up next to. She’s still a stranger, yes, but he feels that she could be more. As if they already know each other for a lifetime. He’s not a believer of reincarnation or stuff like that but he has the feeling of coming home. He shakes his head.

 _Bullshit_!

He’s just unused to people being nice to him. Especially women. It’s far too long ago a lady truly has shown him affection.

Not that he deserves much of it, but the longing remains all too real.

He sighs. _What a mess!_ How is he supposed to get out of this without causing a catastrophe? A pretty face and a daring smile and he's lost! He should be a better man than this. Thinking of her wellbeing before his own... but he tries to convince himself that everything will be fine if he’s just cautious enough. Keeping it all - and most of all himself - under control.

How could any man resist her? Funny, sexy, clever, a good heart, down to earth.

She moves in her slumber. Grumbles something as she slowly wakes up.

„Hey, sleeping beauty.“ He kisses her temple as she stretches herself next to him, her long legs slide over his.

„... not... sleeping...“ she mumbles against his chest and he chuckles.

„So you're snoring just for fun?“

She looks up making a funny face.

„I do _not_ snore.“

„Not at the moment...“ he grins down at her, while his hand runs through her hair.

Playful she punches his biceps. „Ass!“

He pulls her closer into his embrace, wants to hold her and she lets him with a sleepy smile on her face.

„To bed?“ She mumbles eventually. „We’ll get stiff necks and back pain on here.“

He wants to join her. So bad. But sleeping in a woman’s bed to him is a whole different story than camping on her sofa (even when they already made out on that very sofa like there's no tomorrow) and so he’s hesitant again all in a sudden.

„I’m fine. Just go find some rest. I’ll be here if you need me.“

 _Does she pout?_ He doesn’t want to miss one second being with her but he doesn't want to rush things either. Wants to do the right thing. She gets up, not letting go of his hand.

„I’m not gonna argue.“ She mumbles. „Is there any _reasonable_ reason that makes you stay where it's uncomfortable to sleep?“

„Arya...“

„I take this as a _no_.“ She pulls at his arm playfully until he sighs - and follows.

Her bedroom is small. As much as he can see in the dark. One wall all wardrobe. A cozy bed under the window. Ornate, metal bedhead. Pillows, plaids, stuffed animals. Girly. He smiles.

She already crawls under the blanket, pats on the empty spot next to her. This is so casual. So natural. And exactly this makes it so sexy and tempting.

„You sure?“ he assures himself one last time.

„No, I’m tired.“ She grins up at him and he gives in. Slides next to her, but keeps his black jeans on. Stripping down to his smalls would still feel inappropriate and after all, she has not undressed either. Maybe she doesn't even realize it, sleepy as she is. She curls herself already back into his arm.

„Good night, my lady.“ He breathes next to her ear and places a soft kiss on her neck. She smells of caramel and he feels home and reminded of times long ago.

„Good night, Santa Blackwall.“ A sleepy giggle and her lips sneaking up to his for one last time for a sweet kiss.

*   *   *

He listens to her breath while she sleeps. Tries to calm down, to find rest himself.

She is sleeping on her side now, curled herself up, both her hands hold onto his arm that's lying loosely under her neck. Her back and her round ass warm and promising against his side as he lays on his back, the free arm tugged behind his head. Thinking, brooding, silently arguing with himself until he finally falls into a sleep that - the first time in months - comes to him dreamless and refreshing.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slow burn continues. Modern Blackwall wakes up alone in her bed after their first night together, where nothing happend but actually sleeping.  
> We learn a juicy detail of Aryas past (and I am still screaming internally over this wicked move...)

* * *

 

When he awakes he is alone. The light that falls through the window above his head tells him that it’s already late morning. He hears the sound of running water and her merry singing (not always in key) which makes him smile. _She's taking a shower_ , he realizes and looks around the room while he’s stretching his old bones lazily under the blanket.

As he had been assuming earlier in the dark: As much as her living room is all practical and IKEAish, her tiny sleeping room is clearly a girls’ refuge. He grins awkwardly as he feels like a big dark misplaced hunk in the middle of a fairy forest.

He tries to remember whether at some point of his life he had a place stuffed with so many personal things like this. He can't think of one beside the room he has shared with his sister, when they were kids and before she had gone sick and the room had literally been changed to an infirmary. After leaving home he never stuck long enough to one place to collect anything and at finally he had accepted that light traveling can save lives at times (most of all his own).

But he likes her cozy sleeping place and like everything else in this apartment it is part of who she is. And that - as far as he can tell - is adorable.

His eyes wander over some posters. _Lord of the Rings,_ some things that look like Video Games he has no clue about. _Dragon Age..._ mighty heroes in shiny armors, swords, dragons of course... _she’s such a nerd!_ Makeup and shiny jewelry on her small vanity table. Not very tidy or it's just because she has a lot of it. Pictures of her dancing. Different costumes, different styles but always beautiful and sexy as hell!

Finally, his glance sticks onto a photo on her nightstand. Already fading in a simple black frame. She has not changed much, hair shorter, no side cut. Younger. Happy. No cares in the world. The guy who carries her piggyback looks proud and confident as he holds her... Blackwall rolls over to take a deeper look.

The dude has black hair, long enough for wearing a ponytail (maybe he should try that, too. Manbuns seem to be a thing). A golden ring tangling from his right ear. Full beard, dark amber eyes, strong nose, darker complexion, well trained. About his own age, maybe a few years younger than he was now. A serious man. One who takes care for his lady. Blackwall can relate.

The frame looks as if she has held it in her hands for a zillion times and he is not sure if she will like it, being asked about it. Of course, she has a past. He does not mind it. It does not even matter that she keeps this picture of another man on her nightstand. There must be a reason for her doing it. He will not mind about it as long as he’ll not interfere into something ongoing. His younger self, having nothing in mind but casual adventures and fast sex would have not even cared whether she was married or a holy virgin, but _he_ does now. Not wanting to make everything even more complicated than it already is.

He sighs when he rolls back to his bedside. He closes his eyes, first thinking, then dozing, sliding back into some slumber until she returns from the bathroom.

*   *   *

He wakes up again when she enters the room, though she tries to sneak and be extra quiet. He opens his eyes. Only a little first, to see what's going on. Watching her under half cast eyes.

Wrapped into a purple silken kimono-gown, her black hair under a towel turban, she opens the wardrobe and looks around. Stretching and bowing as she chooses what to put on. The wet skin leaves dark marks on the silk and makes the fabric cling to her forms. Her back, her hips, her buttocks, the backs of her thighs.

She’s a delight!

And he feels like a lecherous bastard as he keeps watching her but he can’t look away either.

When her kimono flaps open while she jumps into her smalls he can see her in the mirror for a moment. The idea of a tattoo on her torso, the glimpse at her beautiful tits. Just how he likes them – not too small, bouncing as she moves. The body of a dancer but not in an androgynous ballet dancer way. More like an athlete with strong legs and wide hips. Feminine and strong. He licks his lips without realizing it. He does not want to stare, wants to stay a gentleman. Most likely she’s not even aware that the mirror is giving her away.

So he’s torn between keeping silent, pretending he’s still asleep and watching her – or giving sign that he is awake, too.

_He clears his throat._

She swirls around, holding together the middle of her gown. A bright smile appears on her face.

„You’re up. Hope I did not wake you.“

„And if. Such a beautiful sight to wake up to!“ 

„Flatterer!“ she is not embarrassed, just closes the loose belt of her kimono properly. She steps towards the bed with swaying hips, bows down and breathes him a kiss on the cheek.

„Good morning, stranger.“ She purrs and he is tempted to simply grab her and pull her over. It would totally happen. Now that she is already half naked, fresh and tasty, he could make her moan in no time and she would not say no.

But he resists. It would feel like taking advantage without having earned it.

„Maybe you want to have a shower, too.” she offers, most likely to ease the tension that already lingers around them (or just because she is kind and thoughtful and likes a man fresh out of the shower). „I've already put out a towel for you and a fresh tooth brush. Meanwhile, I’ll see what we have for breakfast.”

 _Why do girls have fresh tooth brushes at hand?_ He asks himself but the amusement is short.

He feels guilty again over so much hospitality. „You don't have to do all that.” he mutters while he tries to keep his eyes on modest places. „It's already so much you have done...”

„Hey!” she interrupts his ramblings. Not unfriendly but determined. „We agreed that you be my guest. And where I come from, hospitality means sharing, company and a good time. So please stop worrying all the time that you might be a burden. Can we agree on that?”

Now she sits down on the bed, next to him. More caramel with some alluring scent of beautiful things he can't even name hits his nose, confusing his senses and bringing his self-control to the test once more. _She smells so fucking good!_ And she, sitting next to him, leaning over, makes it not easier.

„Aye.” he manages to agree. She is close. _Too close_. „Arya.” he breathes, his voice hoarse and low. „Please. Be careful. I'm no man you should tempt as you do it.” she already wants to object, but he puts a hand on her forearm and shakes his head. „Let me finish. You didn't do anything wrong or inappropriate. We both feel attracted and I would be a poor blind idiot for not wanting you. It's just... I'm not sure if I can handle that – what ever it is, what ever it may become. I feel responsible and I don't want you to get hurt at any point.”

She gets up. Giving him the space he obviously needs. But her look on him is serious when she replies: „Look, I'm a big girl. I make my own decisions and I have learned to live with consequences. So why don't you lift your sexy ass out of my bed, take a shower and later we can have some talk over some eggs and bacon. And some serious coffee! Who in this world or another can have conversations like this without having their caffeine level fixed?” This makes him grin again. Eggs and bacon and a strong brewed coffee. _Truly a woman after his tastes!_

„All right my lady. I think it's good when at least one of us has their common sense together. And it's obviously not me. I apologize for my constant brooding. I promise it get's better over time.”

„I'll put that to the test.” she announces, again all tease again and he finally gets up to leave to the bathroom.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern Blackwall and Arya meet at the breakfast table to have some serious talk. We learn who this guy on her nightstand is and that there might be more dark secrets in both their pasts.  
> Blackwall is torn between his guilt and his doubts and the desperate wish to find him some happiness... the usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in the middle of the slow burn but I promise, the smut is coming.
> 
> We'll have the mention of a character death so it's a bit darker, angstier than usually.

 

* * *

He enjoys the hot shower when he hears a knock. „Just me,” she shouts through the closed door. „I found you one of my boxers and even an old tee, I didn't know I still have. Those might fit on you. I just hang it on the door handle. Don't you worry, no rainbows and pink unicorns.” She snickers as she leaves and he shakes his head.

But his amusement fades fast. _Why by any means a woman like her must stumble into his life at the worst moment possible?_ He sighs and tries to pull his thoughts away from all the things he constantly worries about and finally he calls himself an idiot.

Maybe this is only meant to be those few moments anyway. This cursed Christmas holidays, so why not trying to enjoy them? Savor everything he misses and craves so much. Who would judge him for that, longing to feel wanted and welcome?

_Just for a few days…_

He already knows that it won’t work this way. But he keeps denying it. No one must get hurt here, he keeps assuring himself. Just two adults having some adult fun. No obligations necessary. And no obligations means no explanations, too. Everyone will be fine.

If just not everything would be so fucking _perfect_...

The boxers are soft and stretchy. Black with white pirate skulls on it and he fit into them with no problem. His first thought is that she might have found some old stuff from an outdated lover but he really can think that she likes to wear stuff like that herself. The T-Shirt is a former black, now bleached to gray, band shirt from some metal-heads he has never heard of before and it is as oversized as it is old. Most probably he would never have chosen stuff like this for himself but now he is grateful for some fresh underwear.

Of course, he realizes that she peers hard on him again under half cast eyes as he steps into the kitchen. His hair still damp and he decides that the planned haircut can wait some time longer as she's obviously into guys with longer hair. Nevertheless, he still isn’t sure how to handle her inexplicable but blunt interest in him. Something between flattered and embarrassed because he still can’t see how a woman like her would have a thing for a plain and average, old fellow like him. Sure he had been a handsome, cocky guy once. Never having any problems to find him a pretty face to warm his bed, but this times are long gone and he doesn't cry after his younger self.

The mystery of her longing eyes remains.

* * *

Later they sit at her kitchen table. Enjoying a hearty breakfast. The pan between them is filled with well seasoned scrambled eggs and some bacon and the bread she put on the table is fresh and with a crunchy crust. Tomatoes, cucumber, some soft and salty white cheese, olives. He loves it.

He recognizes that she likes her coffee with a lot of steamed milk which she prepares in a small fancy steamer next to her coffeemaker. After she is done eating, she sits on her chair tailor style, her gray oversized sweatpants, the black t-shirt, the cozy socks and the beanie she wears may be casual, even sloppy as heck, but she looks sexy and adorable as she holds her 16oz Starbucks mug (Has she really been to Istanbul to buy it?) in both her hands and sips her coffee as if it is her fuel.

He broods over his own coffee. Black with little sugar. She had recalled that and it was just perfect without any more questions. Just if they know each other forever. _Perfect!_ He shakes his head, not realizing that she watches him carefully.

„Do you have any obligations?” she eventually asks, totally out of the blue. „Wife? Children?”

„What?!? _Noooo..._ ” he replies with surprise in his voice, caught off guard for a second. „I was never married. To be honest, I never thought this was something I could expect from life and as I think back now, I never have met anyone who I thought would be interested in sharing a life with me.” he examines her face. Trying to find answers. „Why you ask?”

„Because of all this back and forth. You _want._ Then you suddenly don't. Always that constant guilt on your face. Telling me you are dangerous where I am hundred percent positive that you are not. I thought this might be an explanation.” she replies.

„And you?” he asks back. Trying to tiptoe around all the mines that might be hiding beneath the surface of this talk. Finally taking a deep breath before he dares to address it. „Who's this guy on your nightstand? Won't he be angry if he learns that I kiss his woman?” he tries to give it a playful undertone but he regrets it the second he sees her eyes darken and how her face is nothing but sadness and pain.

„Duncan?” her voice gets thick with emotion and he can bet that she tries hard to hold back some rising tears as she mutters. „He's dead. And I know he would be more than happy to know that I finally have found someone I really want to kiss. _And more_.” Stubborn and daring but still not able to look at him. „One day it’s probably finally time to move on...“

 _Fuck!_ The obviously old picture, the shabby frame... he should have put two and two together! The picture simply had been too old to be part of her present life. He should have expected something like that! But now that it’s on the table already, curiosity wins.

„I’m so sorry for your loss.“ She nods with no visible emotion and he keeps on asking. „What happened?“

„Special unit. Recruit and train. Some undercover stuff somewhere abroad. He was betrayed by someone who was supposed to have his back. That’s all I know. That’s all they _let_ me know.“ Her voice is bitter and makes very clear that she does not want to talk about this topic any further.

He feels like fainting. His mouth suddenly is dry and his brain empty. _God why_? Why ket life doing things like that to him? He knows he should get up and leave. Now! Not for his sake but for hers. How can he inflict that, _him_ and his wasted life on her? Dragging her into his own abyss when she already has so much pain and loss to handle. He should tell her immediately who he is and what he has done. But if he does, he is sure, she will throw him out with no further thought.

He doesn’t want this either. Maybe one day there would be a way to tell her everything...

He clings to that faint hope because he wants to, not because it’s reasonable.

Maybe by just being careful. Not entangling himself into too many details. Not letting her too close. Only for this Christmas holidays. _Just a few days._ He should know better that she already has captured him, that his defense already is down but he refuses to accept this and so he stays where he is, telling himself that everything is under control but still feeling that his burden of guilt and unworthiness just increases into infinity.

 _You must keep talking to her_ , he reminds himself, _otherwise she will know something_ _bothers_ _you._ And so he asks while he stares onto the kitchen table:

„Were you two engaged? Married? When has this happened?“

„It’s about five years now... we wanted to spend our lives together. That’s all that matters.“ He feels that there had been more to it but he can respect that she don’t want to go into details.

„Again, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked in the first place. I shouldn’t intrude into your private matters as I keep doing. Forgive me!“

Now her eyes are back on him. He feels it and finally gathers his courage to lift his gaze, too. She smiles. She really _smiles_ at him. _How does he even deserve this?_

„Nothing to forgive. It’s all good. But if you want me, you’ll have to have me with my past, as well. Can you handle that?“

 _And you?_ He thinks. _Could you ever handle what I am and what I did?_

But he says nothing. Grabs over the table to take her hand, and before he can think he nods and leans over to breathe a kiss on her lips. Well knowing that to stay silent at times is even worse than a lie.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another little snippet on our way to the steamy departments. Just a little sweet dialogue between Arya and the photo on her nightstand and after that some sad bear hugs, more cuddling and hot kisses on the way to the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

After they finish their gloomy breakfast he asks for her phone to try to find a locksmith again who is willing to work on a holiday. Of course, she hands it over but secretly she hopes that he won’t find anyone so this odd Christmas surprise could last a bit longer. She smiles while she puts away the food and piles up the tableware in the sink. She feels kind of home with him around. Safe. And a warm fuzzy feeling like butterflies in her stomach when she thinks of the man who has been a stranger only yesterday and now feels as if she knows him literally forever. She does not care that she doesn't know much about him, yet. Or that he sometimes trips over his words when he is talking about himself. He will open up when the time is right. She has seen that before. Until then for her, it is enough to trust her guts. And they tell her that this man would never willingly hurt her.

When she is done in the kitchen she returns to the sleeping room. Makes the bed, still smiles a dreamy smile when she thinks about how sweet he was last night, just holding her when she fell asleep. Not pushing anything further though their cuddles had been pretty heated already.

Gentlemen were so rare in her life recently.

Arya sits on her bedside. Taking the frame from her nightstand and softly touches the glass where Duncan's cheek is underneath. Not a single day after they had said their last goodbye she had not been missing him. She will forever. But now suddenly there is someone who evokes the same feelings of home and being safe as _he_ once did. She takes it as a sign.

„You know, love, you’ll always be my warden from up above.“ She whispers, while she still looks at the photograph. „But I’m a big girl now  and there might be someone down here for me again. I think you would like him. So don’t you worry. I’ll be fine.“

With a sigh, she swallows down her tears and puts back the frame in its place. She leaves the room and retreats with her laptop to the kitchen so he can make his calls undisturbed by her presence.

She can hear him trying his best. Arguing, negotiating and finally just mumbling and cursing under his breath out of frustration between several calls that lead to nothing but answering machines or unfriendly dispatchers.

After almost an hour she sneaks back into the living room, steps closer from behind as he stands at the window while arguing with some greedy bastard who would _maybe_ work today if just the price is right.

She feels his body stiff and tensed in his anger as she wraps her arms around his chest from behind and rests her head on his back between his shoulder blades. He jumps at the surprise of touch but does not try to free himself. Continues his unpleasant negotiation, resting one hand on her forearm. She likes how he talks to the man. Clear on what he needs but not willing to buy any bullshit. She would not like to have beef with him, she decides with a grin. The amount of money the locksmith demands is ridiculous and she only hopes that Blackwall won’t agree to that. And he doesn’t. Finally telling the guy that he hopes he never will need help and then being confronted with assholes like himself, he cuts the connection and sighs deeply.

„Seems I’ll be a burden for a while longer...“ he mutters while he stares out of the window where snowflakes dance in the wind, enchanting the world outside into a gray blurry mess.

„Shush! You are no burden.“ She speaks against his back and finally he turns around within her embrace.

„I’m sorry, my lady. I wanted to try to be not that grumpy and broody anymore. That greedy _sonofabitch_ just made it not very easy to stay calm. But I promise now to be as good as you expect good old Santa to be, OK?“

She leans into his embrace. „Oh, to be honest, I don’t mind a bad Santa now and then.“ She purrs and something in her voice makes it run up and down his spine like electricity.

„Is that so?“ he grins down at her. „So I might have discovered a naughty girl here...“

„Was there ever any doubt?“ her lips now so close to his he can feel her breath warm and promising but not yet touching.

„ _Y_ ou, my lady, are an angel.“ For a sweet moment, his lips touch hers. „But I’m sure there are naughty angels, too.“ Another soft kiss. Short and feather light on her mouth. „And you, you might be their queen.“

She lets him kiss her. Savoring the softness of his lips. The tickles of his beard on her skin. Closes her eyes. Floats on her feelings. His lips and tongue on the side of her neck. The sensitive area behind her ear. Slow and soft. Strong arms holding her tight, make her feel safe and secure, she enjoys the contrast of tenderness and strength. Her heartbeat speeding up, fast and fierce and she can feel that his heart beats at least as fast as hers. He is nervous, too, she realizes. Has his own fears and concerns. Two people with a past.

Still standing at the window, he has placed himself on the narrow window sill so their faces are at the same level as she stands between his muscular legs.

His hands begin to wander up and down her spine, finally finding a place to grab on both her buttocks. The first little moan slips from her lips when he pulls her closer and she can feel the bulge that is already growing in his pants.

„You're really sure you want me?" he asks permission and even some self-affirmation from her to find the confidence to go further. His forehead rests against hers and she realizes that he holds his breath as he awaits her answer.

„I want all this. I want _you_. No matter what will be tomorrow. Or next week. Don't you worry now, time will tell what becomes of us in everyday life; Now, it's Christmas..." her soft voice gets a teasing note as she resumes: „and I intend to be the greatest gift you’ve ever had."

„You are already...“ The next thing she feels are his lips back on hers.

Not soft this time. Rough and hungry, his tongue slips into her mouth, clashing with hers, entwine, play, probe. Teeth click for a second of brash, his hands grab her head to hold her, direct her, keep her where he needs her now. She wraps her arms around his neck, her fist grabs into his thick hair and when the first wave of passionate kissing slowly fades she begins to softly tug his lower lip between her teeth.

Her hands slide under his... _her_ shirt and there up his belly, finding his chest and she sighs appreciating as she feels the sensation of the soft hair under her fingers. She pulls up the hemline until she can slide the shirt over his head. Kissing. Starting at his lips, wandering over to his neck, his shoulders, placing feather-light kisses on his chest, downwards and upwards again along the trail of soft black hair that’s leading down between his abs.

His hands are everywhere. Trying to feel her and not miss a thing. He pulls her closer to feel the sensation of her midst against his, moaning as she grinds against him.

Today it's him who asks: „To bed?" and he is everything but sleepy by asking to change places. When she confirms with a little, confirming noise, he lifts her from the ground, one arm under her knees one around her back and hurries into her sleeping room.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally!  
> Bedroom!  
> modern Arya and Blackwall make out and they are so sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not real smut actually but it clearly gets steaming hot in here

 

* * *

 

He lays her down on the bed. Soft and careful. Slides next to her. She glances up at him. Half-closed hungry eyes. That looks kill him as he can see how much she wants him. Really _wants_ him.

More soft kisses. Along her jawline, on her neck. She literally purrs when he nips at her earlobe and brushing light kisses behind her ear. He wants to get lost forever in this feelings. Locking out everything from their little island of comfort and homecoming.

His hand wanders over her body, getting bolder bit by bit. Her face so soft. He could watch her forever. Her smile that soothes him in an instant and makes him feel accepted. Worthy.

Feeling her lips on his cheeks, on his lips. Her fingers trace along the rough lines of his features. Breathed kisses on the ridge of his nose where it was broken once from an unexpected but most probably well-earned punch in the face. Kisses on his forehead, following the arch of his brows. On his closed eyes. This is peace. Finally.

Eventually one of his hands slips under her t-shirt, caressing her belly until she giggles when he hits ticklish places. Warm and soft. He wants to drown in her.

„How do you want me? What do you need, my sweet lady?“ his voice low against the crook of her neck. Lips and tongue exploring the sensitive areas again and he is eager to find all the places.

„Give... me some... time. Do not... rush.“ Her breath is shallow and her voice low and husky. „It's... been a while.“ she confesses and he chuckles with a small awkward smile.

Can’t meet her eyes when he replies: „For me, too. Might... not... last long enough...“ he murmurs and she can see how hard it is for him to admit his insecurities.

„We’ll be fine.“ she ensures him and he nods but not convinced:

„Just let me know... I’ll do... _anything_.“ The last word only a whisper. It would sound cheesy to her if any other person would say it... But _he_? She feels that he means it and again she wonders how such an impressive man can carry so much of a burden to think so small of himself. And how she deserves that he opens up to her.

His fingertips wander over her face again. Trace the delicate form of her cheekbones, follow the lines over her eyebrows. Such large and calloused hands, he clearly is a man who knows how to work hard with his hands but in this moments his touch is as light as a feather. Barely brushing her lips while his thumb slides over them and she lets the finger slip into her mouth. Curls her tongue around it, licks, sucks.

He groans. Groans more when she opens her eyes and looks at him while she still plays with his thumb.

„So you like to do naughty things with your sweet mouth then?“ he asks and his voice gets a darker filthy tone that sends some blissful feelings directly through her core and she nods with big innocent eyes.  _Dammit, his voice alone makes her wet._ She already feels it warm and softly pulsing between her legs.

Meanwhile, his free hand has found its way underneath her bra. Shoving up the elastic fabric to be able to touch her tits. He caresses the skin until he gets the reaction he wants: little sighs and groans and a stiff nipple. He tugs up her shirt, takes a moment to look at her before he closes his lips around the dark sensitive bud and she makes more gasping noises when his tongue begins to play with her. Careful at first. Licking and swirling over the nipple. Trying how she likes it when he sucks it in and his cock twitches in a sudden wave of arousal when he learns that she heats up when he begins to roll the hard bud between his teeth and she pants under him. She may be a kitten at times but he just gets a glimpse of how she may have some desires beyond cuddles, soft kisses, and sensual love making. She’s a wild one and he is eager to discover more of her naughty self. But not now. Now it is all soft and slow and he is also grateful for this for he craves so much for some tenderness to soothe his aching heart and soul.

„May I take off your clothes?“ he asks and she grants it.

With a smile and a remark: „Only if you’ll take off yours too.“

He nods with a serious face. „Aye. I will. Just let me savor you and give me a few moments.“ she caresses his cheeks and let her fingers slide over his beard.

„Take all the time you need.“

He tugs her shirt over her head. Tries to open her bra - with no success but she giggles it away and helps him with proficient hands so he must not feel awkward.

„I’m a bit rusty...“ he tries to excuse himself but she assures him that everything is fine and when he pulls down her sweatpants he needs no further assistance. Underneath a boxer just the kind she gave him. This one now really pink and he can’t believe what he sees: there are little unicorns and frilly cartoon cupcakes on it. _Where in this world do they sell stuff like this – and why?_ he asks himself with a grin.

He kisses down her belly. Admires the tattoo that flows down from her shoulder, her side, to her back and obviously over her still covered delta down to one leg. Vivid light- and dark-green ivy and roses in such a dark purple it appears almost black. Inked thorns leave inked marks and artfully drawn drops of blood and it looks so damn realistic and dramatic.

„That's... beautiful. _You_ are beautiful.” Blackwall gasps in awe and softly he licks and kisses over parts of the inked skin, knowing that his beard would leave soft sensations on her sensitive skin and he loves to see how she bites her lower lip so she would not moan. „Want more?“ he asks with a seductive voice.

„Yes.“ barely audible her answer. She is no shy girl. Never has been one. Had the privilege of having a relationship based on love and trust where everything was natural and possible. Afterward - when the pain began to fade, she had her fair share of one-night-stands. Some steaming hot and satisfying some awkward and sad. Some even upsetting. But now she’s with a man who could be more than a simple adventure.

She realizes that she is nervous. Tensed. Insecure about herself.

Arya tries to relax and just go with the beautiful flow of affection and tenderness between them.

So she watches him, as he grabs the elastic waist of her boxers and pulls is down. Careful, slow, savoring every inch of skin he discovers. With his eyes, his lips, placing soft kisses on her hip bone. With his hands as he caresses and holds her. His beard brushes over her skin and it's a sweet sensation, not yet ticklish but close. Just the right amount of touch to make her shiver.

„Still want more?“ He asks again. Reassures himself. His eyes looking up to her. Soft and serious, not wanting to make any mistake and ruin the moment.

„Please.“ a whisper.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's just watch Blackwall doing what he does (canonically) best... going down on a lady...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here now... as promised. Finally smut that has earned it's name :D

 

Blackwall slides down from the bed, kneels at its foot end and directs her closer towards him. His hands slide up her thighs. Light touch, sweet caress.

„I want you to spread your legs for me, my lady. Will you?“ She can hear him draw in his breath sharply as she does. „Am I allowed to touch you?” he asks again barely audible.

Any other man she had during the last years would just have done it without any further question. _He?_ Takes his time. To look and to relish. And to value what she is willing to give. To ask permission. Permission to touch an open cunt that is only a few inches away from his face.

„Yes.“ she only can pant in amazement.

„May I kiss you there, too?“

He must know that she won’t object but he can see also that she squirms just from his questions alone (and from his voice but she will keep that for herself for a while longer) and so he keeps on talking to her once in a while. 

He leans forward between her parted legs. The idea of having him so close to her bare and open sex sends waves of lust through her body even more, when she realizes that his eyes always jump back between her face and her core as he seems to like both views. 

His fingers wander over her skin. Down from her collar bone, down, between her breasts, circling her belly button for a few seconds then they are again on their way downward. She’s torn between watching or closing her eyes to savor just by feeling. 

Fingertips brush over her delta, barely touching the skin. The intensity of the sensation makes her whimper. Every inch he discovers with his soft and slow touch sends shivers up and down her body and it feels like tiny waves of electricity run through her, emerging from her core, caused by his gentle hand. He slides forward, she feels the touch at her outer lips.

One finger follows her forms, draws gentle circles on her outer lips then changes careful to the inner ones and both draw in their breath when they feel the sensation of her soft wetness.

He takes his time until he finally touches her nub which she already feels pulsing and sensitive. And though she eagerly awaits this first touch she can't help and squalls from the sudden intensity of feelings when it finally happens.

„Good lord you alright, dear?” he sounds alarmed and holds still with everything he does.

But she has already adjusted to the rush of feelings that his touches evoke so she nods with a suppressed moan and gets herself a hold on the metal bed head.

„I'm fine.” she manages to breathe.

He chuckles „Dammit lass, you can't scare an old bastard like that.“ when she mumbles a flustered:

„Sorry, sweets, it was just… intense.” she giggles when she resumes: „But now you have my full attention on this.”

„You are impossible, my lady. Impossible and adorable.” he becomes serious again and his voice shows his wanting when he repeats his former question: „Now please will you allow me to kiss you down here, my lady?” he pauses a moment and his voice is thick with emotion when he resumes: „God, I want to put my mouth on you but let me hear you say you permit me to do it.“ He _begs_. Needs to hear it. For the play. For himself, to be sure he’s doing the right thing.

„Please, Blackwall.” she begins, has to swallow. „Do it. Lick me, suck me, kiss me... just _doooo_...“ she can’t finish the sentence because she's simply overwhelmed once more when his lips finally touch her aroused flesh and her last word ends in a moan.

He continues soft and careful. Probing what gives her the most pleasure. Adjusts according to her moans, moves along with her shaking core to not lose contact.

She loves what he does. His lips sucking, his tongue teasing - he just seems to know how to do this right.

She sighs as a finger slides inside her. He draws it out again, shoves it in as deep as he can. In and out with a slow tempting rhythm. Only one finger but the sudden feeling of having something inside her makes her gasp and little moans slip from her lips again. Soon he tries a second finger and she begins to move against his hand to feel him more and deeper and she begins to long for having something else inside her.

And she wonders how he can have so much self-control not already having his pants ripped off and urging forwards onto her. He is so zealous to please her, she wants to give back to him.

„Blackwall?“ she asks after a while as he still shows no intention of taking the next step.

He looks up to her between her wide spread legs. His beard glistens from her juices. The view is so hot, she bites her lower lip not to groan about it.

„Yes, my lady?“ he replies breathlessly.

„Can you... come up, please? I... I want to… kiss you. Feel you on top of me. Let’s try something new.“ She needs to rally herself a great deal to put out reasonable words because he already is back on her. Now watching her, not leaving her eyes anymore, while his lips and tongue continue to caress. She savors, loves everything he does but she already knows that she’s still too nervous to let go completely. Too many new impressions, feelings, thoughts. Everything is rushing through her mind at once. She knows he would continue literally forever if she would want it but she longs for something else.

„You sure, my lady?“ he eventually asks and begins to crawl up to her when she nods.

„Can we get rid of your pants?” she asks between fierce kisses that leave the taste of herself on her lips.

„So eager, naughty angel.” he chuckles between kisses but does not object when her hands reach forward to finally open the buttons of the black jeans he still wears and she can imagine that the bulge she finds there is not very comfortable for the lack of space.

He already groans when she touches him through the fabric and hurries to assist her, sitting up to help to pull down the pants, constantly excusing himself when the legs get stuck at his heels and she can see that he is as nervous as she is; Tugging desperate on his trousers until their heads bump together by accident.

„ _Ouch_!” they both rub their foreheads where they collided and after a moment of awkwardness they look at each other… until her lips finally curl up in an uprising giggle. When he sees her smile, he relaxes too and finally they laugh together and the lingering tension disappears.

She comes closer. Naked, still flushed from arousal. Pushes softly against his chest. Kissing him.

„Relax. Lay down. Let me take care of you now.” she bids and he can’t say anything.

It feels good to her to get a bit distracted. She frees him from the tangled jeans. Slides over him and just enjoys feeling his warm body on her skin. He wraps his arms around her.

„Careful, my lady.” he tries to calm her down, when she begins to move her core on him, stimulating both, herself and his arousal though he still wears the black pirate boxer she gave him.

„Careful?” her face is close, her hair all around him. He tries to look away but can't.

„You will make me come in no time.” he caresses her cheek. „I told you, it's been a while… That's why I thought I might let you enjoy first… Didn't you like it? Have I done something wrong?” suddenly she can see all his fears and insecurities on his face. His longing to please, to be enough, to be good. How sad he is.

„I loved it.” she ensures him and means it. „But don't you forget, it's been a while for me, too. It was... a bit… overwhelming... maybe.”

„Overwhelming…” he places soft kisses on her jawline. Buries his hand in her hair, holds it all together in her neck so he can see her face in the light. „Shall we stop? I don't want to rush you into something you are not ready for.” Serious and concerned but she also sees how much he still wants her and her laugh is soft and sweet as she replies.

„Do I really look like someone who would wants to stop?”

He kisses her. Long and soft, full of desire.

„No, you don't.” he answers her question but suddenly he hesitates… something obviously just bursts into his mind and he looks almost desperate… „ _Oh_...” he gasps.

„What?” she tries to understand what has happened.

„I… we… can't.” he stutters.

„What? Blackwall?” she repeats slightly alarmed. „Why? What happened?”

„I have nothing for protection… well, of course, I have… In my apartment… but now… I mean... we should stay responsible with that...” Arya realizes that she holds her breath over him being so desperate all in a sudden, but now she just feels relief. And finds him even cuter in his concern for just doing everything right.

„Oh sweets, you are _killing_ me!” her kisses are all over his face and she laughs and giggles until she rolls over to her nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out a package _Durex_ which she playful throws over towards him so he can catch it with one hand. „Do you think I would have let it go this far just like that?” she snickers. „I would have told you if I was not prepared.“ She winks at him.

The tension in his face is gone, when she rolls back to him. He can admire her beauty again, her grace. All of her. He wraps his arms around her, turns her around until she is on her back and he rests on his elbow while his other hand caresses her face.

„Thank you..” he tells her between playful kisses. „Thank you for wanting me. For not making me feel like an old lecherous bastard who only thinks of himself...”

„You should thank me for having a fresh pack of condoms in my drawer, _Santa_.” she teases him and he smirks.

„Oh, my lady, I was just about to thank you for _that_...“ his voice gets a little darker. „In a more... _practical_ way...“


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The afterglow of their first time and Blackwall wondering again if he'll ever be worthy and good enough

 

 

She rests on him. Chest on chest. Knees bend, he is still inside her, they both are calm in the aftermath. Yet his erection does not fade though he had a furious orgasm some minutes ago.

It had been intense and wonderful and – as he had predicted – he had not been able to last long. (For his tastes anyway. Because he always thinks he should do better, no matter what he does.)

He had intended to make her come first. Preferably during foreplay but she obviously had had other ideas. He, of course, obeyed. Not only it was her wish, but her wish also met his own desires when she. He had wanted her, longed to learn how it would feel. To be inside her.

She had been eager, too. Almost dragged him onto her, playfully pulled at his hand to show she wanted him to slide onto her, right after he had put on the condom.

The beginning had been quiet and careful. She on her back, he on top. Nothing fancy but as intimate and close as he could think. Her midst felt hot and soft against his throbbing cock and she directed him in without being bashful and without any hesitation.

First impression had been intense for both of them. He could say that with certainty because both of them held their breath and moaned with the sensation of finally being together while their eyes were locked, telling from desire and lust and the longing to be loved without the need to say anything.

They had taken their time before they began to move with each other. Exchanging kisses, caressing their faces until he started to roll his core against her. She blended in, found a rhythm matching his and for a while they just melted into each other. Little sighs and pants escaped her lips he could have listened to forever.

He kept asking about her well-being, if she needed anything, to know how he could be a better man for her. First, she answered, later she just smiled and finally she whispered between several moans: „It's all good, my sweet Santa Blackwall, just go on and _fuck_ that naughty girl.”

This was the point he was able of letting go. Stop any thoughts and just diving into his feelings and finally, he had been able to do what she had asked him for with more confidence.  
  


Later they had changed position. With her on top, riding him fiercely and avid. First. she sat straight up - a glorious sight. Her tits bouncing with the hard increasing rhythm she already was lost in. Rocked her hips against his, groaning with each move. At times she leaned backward clasping her fingers into his thighs, then again she was leaning forward to hold onto his pecs. Hard grip until he felt her fingernails but he did not mind. He had found a firm grip on her hips. Not to direct her moves but to feel her with even more intensity.

He could not even decide what he liked best. The back and forth on him with the rolling hip of an athletic dancer? Or the deep idle circles she drew on him? Slower but nevertheless alluring. Maybe it was the feeling (and the sight) she gave him when she herself up until he only felt his tip inside her and slid back down on him. Watching her doing this finally brought him over the edge but overall he could not pick a favorite. Everything she did was hot and sexy and he tried to meet her efforts as good as he could by stiffing and moving his core against her and to occasionally massage her clit with his thumb.

At some point, she had softly shoved his hand away. He wanted to ask why but she just shook her head and he kept quiet not to destroy the moment by asking too many questions.

She was loud and passionate most of the time but then again serious and quiet, concentrated and focused on what she did for a while and he liked both.

When he had finally felt the rising climax he had dragged her down on him. He needed her close, urged to feel her body, her warmth, her beating heart against his while he felt himself carried away by the force of the orgasmic waves that ran through his body as he panted under her shaking and moaning under clenched teeth.

He must have been stuttering her name and other stuff multiple times.

  
Even now that he can think again, he is not sure of what he might have said. Only thing he remembers, stammering things like _stay with me_ and _don't go away_ while clinging onto her in the end. Holding her in his tight embrace and listen to their fast and shallow breaths while he spilled himself out in gushing hot waves again and again.

He heard her soothing voice through his own moans and the rushing blood in his ears until there was silence again and he could relax in her arms.

The blood still remains in his cock and keeps him surprisingly hard while he recalls. He does not mind. Loves to feel her warm and soft around him. Feels the usual sleepy peace after coming which only promises but never delivers sleep to him. Just some time where everything seems slow and quiet and at peace. Only able to be a spectator with heavy lids for a while.

But all too fast he begins to worry again because she has had no orgasm so far.

Or maybe she _had_ one and he had not _noticed_ ? Was _that_ even possible? (That would be an even bigger disgrace than not being able to make her come, he decides. He definitely has become rusty over the years!)

He begins brooding again. Whether something might be wrong. With him, his ways of love making.

Tries to read her face but can’t. She does not seem disappointed at all. On the contrary, he could bet she even purrs like a happy cat.

But he simply can’t leave it like that.

„Angel?“ he asks while one of his hands idly wanders through her hair. „Are you all right?“

„It’s perfect, Blackwall.“ She brushes soft kisses on his skin where her lazy lips can reach.

„But you...“ he doesn’t know how to ask without sounding as if he’s begging for approval. „I wanted to make you come. Have I done something wrong? Or... _did_ you come?“

She looks at him.   
„Is it important to you?” she raises one eyebrow.

„Sure.” he tries to figure out what she means. Has he said something inappropriate? A vertical furrow appears between her eyes and she studies him from her spot. „I mean... well, of course, it’s important... that you enjoy... _oh, dammit_... I just fucked up everything with my stupid question, haven’t I?“

At least she smiles again when she replies while she idly caresses his cheek and waves her fingers slowly through his hair: „Oh Blackwall, I told you I would need some time to… find back to the _feeling_. It was all wonderful and you did nothing wrong. Good?”

„But...”

She sighs. „Have you - honestly, really always, every woman you ever fucked - made come just like that? At the first time? Is that a contest you are running?“ Her voice sounds a bit stressed and her last words show that she can get snappy, too.

He’s already about to answer but then he starts to think.  _Has he?_ He doubts it. Fact is, there were times he simply didn't care.

„You are right.“ He finally sighs. „We are no machines. I just wanted to do everything right.“

„And you did. I want more of it.“ She grins at him.

„Now?“ he raises his eyebrows in amusement but also slightly concerned she could say yes. Because he feels that his erection finally is about to fade and though he would love to get it on again at once, he knows that he'll need some time to recover.

She moves on him, tiny circles but in a playful and intimate manner without any lechery. And she laughs.  
„I guess we take a break, Santa. We can get back at it every time we want.” She slides carefully off of him.

„Aye, my lady. I'm sorry.” kisses between chuckles and he wraps his arms around her. „Let me go the bathroom and then I'll be all yours again.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have modern Blackwall in borrowed boxers cooking Dinner for his lady. And angsting out of the blue again like only Blackwall can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly sweet and sexy domestic fluff with beautiful people doing every day stuff exchanging some cute cuddles and smoochies plus the usual Blackwall guilt-talk.

 

* * *

 

Snuggles and kisses when he returns to the bedroom. Making plans. About what to do with the rest of the day and the next. Until the landlord will be back and he will have to go back to his own flat. She doesn't want to think about that now. Not now. Reality will strike soon enough. Now all she wants is to be. With him. Doing mundane things like watching movies or read to each other. Talk. Laugh. Love. Yes, she definitely wants more of this sweet love making.

He offers to cook dinner and she likes the idea of having him work in her kitchen. It simply feels natural and right, doing everyday stuff together and somehow she is sure he’ll be a fine cook.

They finally get up and he puts on the black boxers again. She jumps into a laced slip and puts back on her bra, covering it with a long shirt with a wide neckline and _'_ _star wars_ _'_ written over its front. He grins at it and only shakes his head over even more nerdery when she trumpets the imperial march on their way to the kitchen through closed lips with puffed up cheeks until she bursts with laughter. (And he knows he will never be able to hear his mobile ring tone again without this moment coming back to his mind. But he can live with that, he decides.)

Back in the kitchen, first thing she heads to is her coffee maker and he grins friendly down at her when she hands him over a mug, too.

„You are clearly into coffee.“ He states and she shrugs with an impish smile and gets on her tiptoes, stretching up to him until she reaches his cheek for a playful kiss.

„I’m into a lot of things...“

He grabs around her waist and pulls her close. Her kiss tastes like coffee and lust.

„Tell me more about those things you are into, my lady.“ He asks with a husky voice and she makes a daring noise.

„Ah, I bet you wanna know...“ she teases him between more kisses. Lips and cheeks, down his neck side – _she will make him_ _go_ _crazy_ _if she continues_ _like that_.

„Just to give them all to you.“ He smiles - already a bit breathless - and she hides her instant blushing giggles at his shoulder. _How can he always say such cheesy crap and just sound plain sincere by doing it?_

„Oh, first of all, I’m into getting something to eat.“ Her tone gets flirtatious. „And into watching the handsome cook doing his work only dressed in a pair of borrowed boxers.“

He grabs her hips and lifts her up, turns around with her up in the air a few times to finally place her on the corner of her counter top while he playfully declares:

„And you shall receive. But don’t you think I’m letting a saucy talk go off just like that. Be sure I’ll come back onto this topic, my lady.“ He promises.

„I hope so.“ She giggles. „Saucy talks are my favorite.“

„ _Who could guess_...“ he smirks and finally opens the fridge to check what he can find for a proper dinner.

Chicken breast, some colorful veggies. Sugo. _Yes, he'll be able to make something decent out of this._ He asks a few questions for additional ingredients and where to find them and objects when she is about to slide down from her spot to assist. „No, my lady, you stay with your sweet ass where you are.” He demands while he breathes soft kisses on her lips. „Just answer my questions and watch your personal cook-show. I'll handle everything else.”

„Am I allowed to take pictures? From the chef in my boxers?” she giggles and shakes her iPhone.

He hesitates for a moment but then he nods. What's wrong with having a bit fun together. _She wouldn’t spread his face (or other bits) all over facebook, would she?_

„You'll keep them to yourself, will you?” he assures himself and she smiles at him.

„I would never ever want to share you.” She does not let show if she’s conscious about the multiple meanings of her words. He’s sure she is, but she already resumes: „Just to have something to remember this wonderful time we have. You'll have to sign me one.” already back into flirt mode.

He could say many things. About sharing. About their kind of relationship (if there is any at all), about hopes that might be shattered. But he jumps onto her flirt instead, taking the easy way out. _Again._

„I do not sign photos in which I do wear clothes.” he winks back at her.

„Oh, I'm sure we will have the opportunity to take a few pictures later that meet your standards for signing.”

He makes himself busy with food preparations to hide his sudden rush of blush. Feels his ears burn, hopes she's only joking but at the same time intrigued by the idea of a made up sexy photo shoot with her.  
„Will… will I get the chance to take a few shots of you, too, beautiful angel?” he mutters over the potatoes he is just peeling.

Her first replies are flattered giggles like she is surprised and embarrassed by her own naughty ideas but then she looks at him. Becoming serious for a moment but the sparkles in her eyes remain.

„We barely know each other and maybe it's not wise to say something like that after just two days - but I trust you.“ Not quite an answer to the particular question but so much more.

„It would be your phone anyway.“ He tries to talk away his own tension and shrugs by muttering this words. He does not want to dive deeper into that trust thing she just mentioned. Ends the subject before she can realize that he is not sure about anything at all. So instead he puts down his knife for a moment and wiggles himself close to her.

„How do you young folks call it? Let’s do a selfie together?“ and she snorts.

„Don’t you always act as if you are an outdated grandpa. I bet my last paycheck that on your phone are at least three dozen selfies, most probably flexing one bicep and sucking in your belly in front of a mirror pretending to be mighty Arnold...“

He stares at her, then blushes.

„How...“

Arya bursts with laughter she wraps her arms around him and they take their first picture together: She making a goofy face and he looking all serious and holding his breath from sucking in his belly though only their faces are in the photo.

 

Blackwall resumes his food preparations. Peeling vegetables. Cutting them into pieces. Handing her over occasional bits to nibble on. His hands work steady and proficient, his workplace looks neat and organized. No unnecessary moves and distractions (beside her and the little kisses they exchange from time to time), just working off one step after another. Letting her taste what he is brewing to make suggestions for seasoning. She likes it hot. He should have known.

He is aware that she watches him. Strange feeling but he never feels inconvenient. They exchange looks and smiles. She has slung her arms around her shins as her chin rests on her bended knees. Occasionally she’s taking another photo of him or herself with her phone and they are casually chatting about films they both have seen and other stuff people use to talk about. He wonders how long it has been since he had a casual talk like this and feeling comfortable at it while he trying to prepare a proper dinner.

How he wishes he could come up with something fancy. _Duck a l’orange_ or _coq au vin_ or something like that. All he knows is basically bachelor stuff. Throwing together random ingredients and hoping something decent comes out of it. She obviously does not mind. _Did women nowadays not expect fancy cooking anymore or was it just her?_ She seems so happy with everything he does for her yet he is never under the impression she is running low standards. She remains a mystery to him. Does she really know what she is herself throwing into? No matter how often she might tell him that she's a big girl who can handle anything, he doubts that she fully understands. She must know. Understand. He takes a deep breath.

„Angel?“ he finally begins along with throwing the last remaining vegetables into the huge pan, in which now a spicy, colorful chicken stew simmers.

He wants to know so badly. About her life. Her past. Wants to tell about his own. Explain why he is not good for her and why he does not deserve all this affection she gives to him.

„Yes, Sweets. What is it that bothers you again?” not irritated but concerned and her vivid eyes on him, searching for answers but not knowing where to start and what to ask.

He puts the knife and wooden cutting board into the sink, washes his hands and dries them with one of her bleached vintage kitchen towels. Winning time to figure out how to go on, now that he finally has started. Well, has _tried_ to find a way to start...

She still sits on the corner of her counter top and leans her head to the side with a huge question mark on her face. He closes the short distance. Her arms are back around him in an instant. He touches her cheeks, caresses the stubble of her side cut, is about to get lost in her eyes again until he leans his forehead against hers. Breaking eye contact to be able to think again.

„I'm sorry.” he tries. „I promised not to kill the good times we have with my constant concerns...” he's desperately searching for the right words.

„Are you... _scared_?” she softly asks after a while when it becomes clear that he won't find them. Another long moment of silence and he is only capable of a nod so small it's barely recognizable. She realizes nevertheless and so she resumes to speak instead of him: „Me, too, Sweets. It's all so fast. And deep. Confusing. I have no idea where those feelings come from and where they might lead. But aren't they good?”

„More than good, my lady. But I don't know...” he tries again.

„I don't know either.” she takes his face in her hands and forces him to look into her eyes. „But I'm willing to _try_.”

„You have so much patience. And confidence. You speak of trust. I'm a man you just took in. Like one of your puppies. Lost and confused, there's not much difference I suppose. And you don't even know me. Who I am, where I have been and what I have done with my life. I feel I need to explain but I don't know where to start. Where to end.” His lips find hers and his kiss holds all the desperation and fears he can't tell her about. She returns the kiss. With her own pain and her own feelings that scare her more than she wants to admit.

„For a starter, you could tell me what _you_ think is important?” she suggests after their lips part and his forehead rests against hers again. „I won't ask you anything, but if you need to talk, I will listen.” she assures him. „Anyway, would you really want to do this half naked with your half naked girl sitting on the kitchen counter?”

He swallows but feels a bit bolder already, encouraged by her words.

„Maybe we should do this talking thing all naked and in bed.” his finger trails along her cheekbones, then her jawline and down her neck until he finds her collarbone that is visible through the wide neckline of her shirt that has fallen off her shoulder, showing skin covered with ivy, roses and inked drops of blood.

She grins.

„So you try to play distraction strategies on me, I see.” she slides herself down from her spot. Tightly along his body with full intention, staying where she is. Close and warm pressed against him. „Won't work that way.” lolling in his arms stretching herself up until their lips meet. After the kiss she smiles. „I tell you what we do. You go on nursing our dinner. Setting up the table and then you put on all you have for proper clothing and wait for me. I'll be back in a bit. And I'll be all ears if you want. And all eyes. If you want it or not. Can you roll with that, sweets?”

He nods. Still reluctant.

„I suppose.”

„Good then. Don't start without me.” and she winds herself out of his embrace and turns to leave the kitchen.

„Arya.“ She turns half around and looks over her shoulder.

„Yes?“

„Did you mean that? Wanting to be _my girl_?“ he asks with a shaky voice.

„ _I am_ already.“ She simply replies before she is gone.

Blackwall stands still but his mind is running.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoooo angsty confessions ahead! Modern Blackwall needs to get something from his chest (something, not everything, like really? did you think it would be as easy as that?).  
> Have a sappy romantic setting, dinner for two, chocolate pudding, a man bun and a sexy dressed up modern Arya alongside with Blackwall trying to tell the truth.

 

* * *

 

When she returns he feels his throat dry as he tries to swallow. If it would not be such a cliché he would say he’s about to lose the ground beneath his feet.

She has dressed up. Put a lot of effort into her appearance. Even a lummox like him can see that. A dress of some bluish violet color. Some bling here and there. A lot of skin but not cheap. Still a lot of class. She has done something to her hair, too. No more loose buns or braids but black waves and curls in a dark cascade around her face and down her back. Like a princess. Putting on some make-up, he assumes. Her eyes seem bigger, brighter. The usual light brown appears to have nuances of violet but he blames the light. Lipstick. Some dark red that gives her mouth some pouting sexiness. He finds himself staring. Is that really the nerdy, tomboyish girl he has known so far? She even has put on high heels.  _Sweet mother of Jesus, these are at least five inches, how does she even manage to walk in them?_ But she does and with swaying hips, she comes closer. Can look him into the eyes almost straight now, without looking up. A subtle cloud of some sweet fragrance lingers around her.

„You... look different.“ He begins with a hoarse voice and the certainty of showing a sheepish face. He feels under-dressed in his jeans and borrowed t-shirt. Those clunky boots. How he wishes he had a proper button-down shirt right now. And a jacket. And proper shoes. But he has already put on everything he has at the moment and at least he has thought about washing his face and running a brush through his beard and hair. In a bold attempt, he even has pulled his hair together in his neck and tried a bun. This must do it for tonight.

She smiles as she notices his new hairdo and runs a soft hand over his hair.

„You look different, too. A little at least. Suits you.“

„And you, my lady. Like a dream come true.“

„ _Your_ dream?”

„Every man’s dream.“ _A hot and wet dream I can tell you, lass!_ He amends but only in his thoughts. Maybe there will come the time for some dirty talk later but he doubts it. Most probably he will end up alone in the cold with her not willing to talk to him ever again.

While he is already about to get lost in his self-doubts she steps into the kitchen that now appears like an enchanted place.

„I’m fucking hungry!“ she grins. Well knowing that her speech counters her appearance and she does it on purpose to take off the lingering tension. Only with little success, and so his smile is still nervous as he offers her a chair. It’s her kitchen - consisting of a wild collection of thrift shop and IKEA. But he tried his best to make it look romantic.

A white table cloth, red napkins. He shuts down the lights so the candles he lit are the only illumination. Not two of the candles he found fit together but they all give the same golden light that reflects from the mundane silverware and the glasses which he already filled with some dark and rich red wine from her storage. Even the stew on the simple white plates looks ‘ _more’_ as he added some slices of white bread and kept the portions small. There’s a little tower of rice beside each portion. He must have cooked it, while she was off to dress up.

„It’s not much, my lady.“ He begins to apologize before she even says a thing while she takes her seat but she softly cuts him.

„It’s beautiful. Come sit and let’s have dinner.“ She nods with her chin toward the free chair opposite hers and he softly squeezes her bare shoulders from behind before he steps around the table and sits down. „Thank you for doing this.“ She resumes. „And again: Merry Christmas, Blackwall. Let’s have a wonderful evening together once more.“

He looks at her. An artfully crafted silver griffon on a delicate necklace that rests gracefully in her nicely displayed cleavage catches his eye.

„Merry Christmas, my lady. I hope you like it.“ Humbly he bows his head.

„I’m sure I will.“ She smiles while she begins to eat. „After all, I know what’s coming since you already let me taste for the seasoning and I asked for _hot_.“ she winks at him.

„Yes, right.“ He tries not to sound distracted but his thoughts are already running elsewhere, not knowing how to talk to her without ruining everything. Maybe some alcohol will help. He lifts his glass. „To you, beautiful angel.“ He manages to say.

„To you, Santa Blackwall.“ She replies, lifting her glass, too, then hesitates and finally adds, more like a question: „To us?“

He takes a deep breath. It’s not a lie to express one's wishes and desperate hopes.

„To us.“

They let their glasses chink and take a sip. It’s a heavy Rioja. Almost sweet and rising up to the head in an instant. It goes perfectly with the hearty stew he has put together. They eat in silence for a while. Just their eyes speak. She’s flirty and sweet. Lets him know that she is happy and wants him without telling a word.

He secretly moans to himself. He must give her something. She deserves the truth. _She deserves better_. Maybe she’ll understand why he fears that he’ll inflict nothing but pain on her. Pain she does not deserve to feel. Maybe if he tells her, she will send him away and they both will lead continue their lives. She will heal soon and move on to someone better, worthier.  
And he… will carry on as he was.

But he can’t find a point to start until they sit over the dessert. He had been able to find some instant pudding, whisking it together into a chocolate-cream she is now indulging herself with as if it was the finest mousse au chocolat on earth.

He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath.

„You remember when you asked me about what I do for a living?“ He begins breathless, feeling like skydiving without a parachute.

„Yes?“ more a question than an answer.

„I... was in the Army. Well... _kind of_...“

She stirs pointless around in the remains of her pudding.

„You don’t have to...“

„But I want... _need_...“ the little boldness he had been able to gather fades with every second. „Listen, I am... was… with the MP and I thought you should know. Since you have kind of… past time experiences...“

„ _Military police_...” she breathes. Still not looking back at him. He can guess where her thoughts wander. Back into her own history. Reliving her fears and her pain by only mentioning that he, too, has his bonds with the forces.

„I quit. Years ago.” he hurries to explain. Hopes that it makes it easier for her to accept. Though putting it this way is only a vague description of what really happened. He just leaves it like that. The lesser words the better. „I went abroad. Working with… on my own account.” not necessary to entangle himself into details.

„Interesting path. Where have you been?” good question. Luckily not too close to the things he'd rather not tell.

„Here and there… France… mainly.” must count. At least it will explain several things if they ever come up.

„OK. Everyone lives by their choices and decisions.” Nothing more. No emotions. No questions.

Is she waiting for more? He can’t read her face. If she's waiting, he can't give her anything more. Simply can’t make himself do it. He calls himself a bloody coward again but he finally realizes that he won't be able to tell her the whole story. Not now. It's already enough for one day.

„Yes. I came back a while ago. Had… things to settle. Liabilities. Now... I'm here.”

„Still... on the go?” a weary edge in her voice she tries to hide with not too much success.

„No. Came to stay here. It's a big city. Many people, a melting pot. Must be work here somewhere for a big guy like me. Doing something good.”

Now finally she looks up. Her eyes pierce his. He feels like she looks deep down into his rotten soul and he only prays that she can't see as deep as it feels. His heart pounds and he is not sure if he is happy with the outcome of this confession but when she finally smiles he can't help and reach over the table to grab her hand. She only nods and says, regarding his last answer:

„Good. I would hate to see you leave again.”

„Nothing frightens you, my lady, does it?” he is aware he his already beating around the bush again but he can't help. It was hard enough to tell her that much. He is relieved she can handle it so far. And him, too.

„Not with you by my side.” she simply says and it sounds like an eternal truth.

„You honor me where I do not deserve it, my lady.” he bites his tongue. He said he would stop. It does not matter what he believes but he promised. _Promised_ her not to ramble about broody stuff anymore.

„Come on, sweets.” She puts a smiling end to his musings. „Let's change rooms. The wine will taste even better, cuddled on the sofa.” she gets up, trying to give her voice a determined edge and her hands a secure grip on her glass and the bottle.

But he recognizes her fingers slightly tremble and her eyes blinking away the tension (and most probably some tears, too). His words are sinking in now. Slowly settling into her consciousness and she will need time to process what he has just told her. It definitely was enough for one day to learn.

The rest - which probably will kill every spark of feelings for him - he must keep it from her for a while longer. If he wants to stay with her in his selfish desire for some loving touch. Maybe there will come a moment he will feel bold enough to tell. But this moment will be not tonight. He sighs deeply and gets up to follow her into the living room with his glass.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all the angst lately have now sappy dancing, some sexy talk, the cheesiest line I ever made Blackwall say and another awfully cute nerd-off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with its own soundtrack and if you want to have the right feels (and an idea about what they are talking) while they dance I highly reccommend to listen to
> 
> Elysian Fields - Black acres  
> (THIS video is beautiful, too btw.)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49Yxt9FEp5o

 

* * *

 

There are candles burning in the living room, too. She must have lit them earlier on her way back to the kitchen and she has put on some soft music from her laptop, too. A perfect romantic setting, though neither of them seems to be sure if there _is_ still any romance. But none of them has changed the lightning yet. Maybe it’s easier to see each other in the twilight now?

They sit on the sofa. Like they were at their very first night together. In opposite corners. She turns around her glass between her hands. He still feels tensed. Will she ask more questions? Digging deeper?

Indeed she asks one more thing after emptying her glass in one hearty gulp and filling it back right away:

„Feel better now?“ her eyes are on him. Not the question he expected. Serious but not hostile, not asking more details. More concerned about him than over herself. He shrugs. Tries to give back a confident smile to her, he’s not sure if he manages it well enough.

„I just thought you should know, since you are _my girl_ now.“ He forces himself to look at her as he says it. Tries to make it sound light and playful. Her reaction will show if she is still interested in him. He should not be so eager to push it still forward. But something in him longs for peace. A place he can call home. He knows he shouldn’t but he _wants_ that. Wants _her_. And when a tiny smile appears on the corner of her lips he feels more relief than he should. He needs to hear it, though, so he resumes: „Do you still _want to be_ my girl?“

She places her glass on the table in front of them and turns to him. She swallows one last time and puts a smile back on her face as she says, making clear that she does not want to let anything interfere with the good times they share together right in this moment:

„You can bet your sexy, hairy ass on that!“

His laughter rises up from deep down and a good part of the tension leaves his body and mind as he takes her hand and pulls her closer.

Just holding her tight in the golden candle light, relieved that he had been able to reveal at least some of his inner demons without scaring her away. Small steps are better than nothing, after all, he assures himself.

„It's been a roller coaster ride this few days, wasn't it?” he breathes next to her ear after a while of cozy snuggling into each other while his hand idly wanders over her side and her round hip and he savors the softness of the purple dress she still wears. He wants it to be better. Sweeter. Wants to share a good and peaceful time with her and try to carry it further. He has not been more certain about anything in his life.

„May I have this dance, lady Trevelyan?”

If she flinches over the sound of her own family name, she doesn't let it show. She looks up to him from his shoulder where her head rests. Her eyes look darker in the dim candlelight but he can see how they twinkle as her face brightens.

„I'd like that.” she purrs and her voice sounds deeper than he knows it. She lifts herself up from the sofa, tugs down the hem of her dress and lets him take her hand. He even implies a bow and she replies with a tiny curtsy and he breathes a soft kiss first on her cheek and then on the back of her hand with a chuckle. He leads her a few steps to the free space in front of the window and she lets him draw her close into a classic dancing position. His arm slides softly around her waist and she puts her free hand on his shoulder. Lightest of touch, she is surprised how he stands in perfect form and even more surprised when he begins to lead her into a slow gentle dance.

„I didn’t know you danced.“ He hears her words close to his ear.

„I did. In another life.“ His reply comes low and he curses himself immediately for it. But she does not ask and he is grateful for it. Concentrates on the music, on her, on not accidentally stepping at her feet. He may have danced once but it does not mean he was ever good at it. But he wants to be now.  
The song they move to in soft movements sets in with the melancholic sound of some string instrument until a woman begins to sing with a soft voice full of longing and lingering sex. _Interesting taste of music_ , he thinks (wondering where people actually find music like that since he never hears something similar on the radio) The song hits him more than he expects. Maybe it is the odd combination of the sad music and that lascivious voice, he feels goosebumps running up the back of his legs and his spine.

„Interesting song...” he whispers into her ear and she chuckled.

„Like it?”

„I'm… not quite sure...” he keeps on listening for a few moments more. „a little… sad, maybe?”

She looks into his eyes and he realizes that there is lust in her eyes.  
„ _Sad_? Are you sure?” she asks with a slight smile.

He listens a bit more… raises his eyebrows. Grins and his voice is getting a saucy edge.  
„Are you aware that she actually sings about… _sex_?”

Arya giggles. „Really? You don't say...”

„Yes. Like what else would she mean with _little death_ and… oh..” he looks at her with a smirk. „you already know, don't you?”

She keeps on giggling and he draws her closer and his lips find hers for a playful kiss while they continue their dance until the last melancholic notes have finally faded.

He leads her back to the sofa and they cuddle together in the candle light. She rests her head on his shoulder, her legs somehow entangled with his.

„So, my crazy lady, what are you up to tonight? Shall I take you to the movies once more? Since we have been at that wonderful restaurant already and I even took you dancing?” there is a spark in his eye and she wiggles herself up on him until she comes to lie on him and she can reach his lips for a gentle smiling kiss.  
„Let's just stay here in our private lounge and have some more drinks while we get to know each other a bit more.” she suggests and he returns her kiss before he replies:

„Your wish is my command. So what do we do? Truth or dare?” the moment he says it he wants to face palm himself but now that it is out he must roll with his offer the moment she accepts. But luckily she just laughs and shakes her head.  
„Oh I am so much _not_ into making you do prankster calls or wear my panties.” she pauses when she realizes how her suggestion evokes a rumbling laughter from him, before she resumes. „Well of course if you want them, they are yours.”

„Would you mind if I was into something like this?” he asks and she shakes her head with no hesitation.

„Naah… as long as you hurt no one, I don't think I would find anything to object. And beside that...” she snickers into the crook of his neck. „The silky ones are very soft.”

„I can believe that, but to be honest I would prefer to feel them rather on your skin than mine.”

„I think we can manage that.” she agrees and he smiles. He gets allured by the idea of talking sexy things with her. It had been mentioned before and was lingering between them literally all day. So he gives it one more shot:

„Beside the silken panties you spoke of, any more preferences in lingerie?” she looks at him, with that rascal smile he already loves way too much.

„And you?” she throws the ball back at him and he grins.

„I think I am like any other guy, being all game if we get offered anything...” he shrugs but she can see that there is still more on his mind.

„But?”

„But… I really can appreciate the good old garters with some sweet stockings, I guess?” it almost sounds like a question and she already grins again as she lifts one of her legs to the side and tugs up her skirt for a moment so he gets a short glimpse of the lace of her nude stockings held up by an also laced nude colored garter belt.

„ _Fuck_...” he gasps and she chuckles.

„Later, sweets, later!”

„Oh, dirty talk, too?” his hand moves up and down her back and she lolls under his touch.

„Occasionally. When time and mood are right. And the voice fits?” she answers also with a little question mark at the end of her sentence, giving him the opportunity to jump in.   
  
He laughs deep and rumbling.  
„What about _my_ voice?” 

When she just makes a loud purring noise he can't help but say „ _Good girl_!”

„Which is not specifically dirty. Ser.” she winks.

„Don't tell me, you are a devoted sub because I wouldn't believe you.” he smirks at her and she first makes up a little pout but can't help but grin.

„I like playing if the mood is right so I might tie you up the one day and blindfold you and let you spank my butt and pull my hair a day later. And maybe we don't do any of this for several weeks and we will be perfectly fine. How does that sound to you?”

„I think I greatly approve, my lady.” He holds her closer and his hands find a firm grip around her ass. „But what does this tell me about tonight?”

Her giggle definitely sounds seductive now.  
„I’m not sure but I tend to answer with Captain Jean Luc Picard here...“

He chuckles.  
„There are four lights?”

She cracks up and playfully hits him with the first pillow she can grab.

„Noooo, The sky’s the limit! And the only reason I don’t actually punch you is because you knew the other one.“

He’s shaking with laughter now, too. Holding her to his chest, feeling comfortable and light.

 


End file.
